Covert Operations
by SKewedViEW
Summary: Being a CIA operative at 18 is not easy. Add in crazy friends, confusing guys, foreign countries, creepy people and you've got chaos. Or the life of the CIA's newest recruits. Related, out of order shots about Cam's first 3 years with the CIA. Definite T.
1. Prologue

**Summary: The life of a CIA operative is not easy. It is not full of glitz and glam. It consists of hard work, small paychecks, and a constant fight to live. Adjusting to this life is hard for everyone and when you add being 18 on top of a new and demanding job you've got trouble. Add in crazy friends, confusing guys, foreign countries, creepy people and you've got chaos. Or the life of the CIA's newest recruits.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing that comes from the Gallagher Girl books.**

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><p><strong>Covert Operations<strong>—_Military or political activities that are not only clandestine (undertaken in a manner that disguises the identity of the perpetrators) but also covert, i.e. denied by the governments that undertake them._

Cameron Morgan started training to become a CIA agent the day she was born, technically training since she was twelve. Because she attended the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women she didn't have to go through a year of training at the farm as the applicants picked up after college did. The CIA is in constant need for new faces and having teens that they can hire as soon as they turn eighteen is essential for intelligence gathering; usually when a thirty-year-old guy in a suit won't blend in. However, adjusting to the CIA is never easy and everyone has to go through something of a transition period, which of course, explains all the trouble Cammie and her friends had.

Despite being an official CIA worker at eighteen she was still a teenager who was trying to figure out her love-life, hang out with friends, go to bars, stay in shape, learn as much as she could without slaving over books, attempting to live on her own, handling the stress of bills while on a government paycheck (during a recession no less), and occasionally having to kill people while barely escaping with her own life. This type of life takes a toll on everyone but if it's done right you can have just the right amount of drama, fun, adventure, love, and enemies to make it all worth it. But these people aren't normal and figuring out how to have a normal life when you are anything but is a challenge that won't go uncontested.

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><p>Langley, the CIA headquarters, is far from covert. Everyone knows what it is and everyone has seen a picture at one point or another, but what goes on inside continues to be speculated. Perhaps no one will know unless they work there, are very high up in the government, or are archeologists looking back at America's civilization a few million years from now. However, the CIA is constantly acquiring new operatives, new assets, and new enemies. In this particular case, they acquired four very distinguished operatives: One a pavement artist who could talk you in circles, hold her own in a fight, and had a knack for getting into trouble.<p>

The second was a field operative who loved being in the thick of the action, took risks and made good use of them, and was confident enough to go with her instincts and get what she wanted. The third was an computer genius who could break nearly any encryption, didn't mind being in the thick of danger, and was willing to risk anything in order to help her friends, colleagues, or just to give herself a new challenge.

The fourth was a well-known face in America though it had not been on the front of magazines for a few months. She was a headstrong girl who could be a bitch but refused to take anyone's bull, had many connections to powerful people, was a whiz with disguises, and didn't mind pissing people off if it meant getting what she wanted.

Four very different operatives who had very similar dreams and a friendship that had been tested with danger before but was about to be tested with real life.

Their careers started only a few months after they graduated the Gallagher Academy of Exceptional Young Women. Being only eighteen they were all expecting a warm welcome into the business of Covert Operations and were surprised by the greeting they got.

A lady with dark, shiny black hair walked up to the four of them and shook their hands. A man who looked to be around thirty was right beside her.

"I'm Abigail and I will be getting you all settled today with the help of Jay here," she said, gesturing to the man with dirty blonde hair.

"I would give you a tour but this isn't the White House so keep up and remember what I tell you," Abigail said tuning on her heel to head up the stone steps. The four girls followed with their boxes of stuff they had brought to decorate their desks and offices.

"Langley is where you will be spending most of your time when you are not on a mission and the reality of it is, especially in the beginning, your missions will last overnight at most. Here, you will come in every morning ready to train in the gym. We have state of the art equipment and you will have periodic sparring matches with each other and, occasionally, with some of our prisoners if only to learn how some of the other countries fight; that includes our computer managers, Miss Sutton, for while you were not recruited for you physical abilities it is important that you are able to defend yourself if you are ever cornered. Don't be late for things, time is of the essence here, and don't try to feed anyone bull crap because they will be able to tell.

"Here at Langley employees are held to the highest standards and while mistakes happen they are not tolerated very well so don't screw up. The most important thing for you all to remember is that everything that happens in this building stays in this building. The people you meet, the things you hear, is all top secret and should be treated as such. Any leaks that happen will be dealt with as quickly and as quietly as they can be. Do as you're told, expect the unexpected, prepare for the worst, hope for the best, and follow protocol unless your only option is to completely buck the system in which case you can't do it half-heartedly because you will wind up dead," there Abigail stopped and turned to face the girls again.

"These are you desks," she said indicating three empty ones in a room full of cubicles. "At least for right now. Elizabeth,"

"Call me Liz," the blonde girl interrupted. Abigail looked at her for a moment before continuing.

"_Elizabeth,_" she repeated. "You will be doing most of your work in the basement for the time being. In a few years you will get your own office and at one point you will be assigned a partner and a team. Macey you will be spending a good amount of time upstairs in our department of C&D, Concealment and Disguise, and will eventually be moved upstairs, assuming that both of you are up to par. Rebecca and Cameron, you will be spending most of your time doing practice missions, training and in the beginning especially you will all be expected to do as those above you ask, whether it be getting them coffee or reporting somewhere.

"I'm well aware that you all are from the Gallagher Academy however I should warn you we have had many operatives who have come from that school and failed. You will receive no special treatment no matter where you went to school or who your family is, so I suggest you work hard. Your connection to your school is perceived as bad by many operatives here and you will have to prove yourselves. Good luck," she added as an afterthought before leaving, heading up another flight of stairs and leaving them with Jay.

"Well, I think she pretty much said it all. My only piece of advice is to go all out. You're bound to make mistakes, we all did when we first got here but try to keep your heads and remember that you can't talk about what goes on here with your family. Your whole life is now classified and no one can know what's going on. Also, steer clear of the politics as much as you can, it puts you in more danger the more you play it and connections can only help you so much. Try to stay discreet and never, ever release another operatives name, we don't want another _Fair Game_ incident and that movie doesn't even portray how much danger she was really in. Welcome to Langley," he added before he, too, left.

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><p>"Hey, am I the only one who's realized this building doesn't have any fire alarms," Cammie asked as she and her friends were changing in the CIA locker rooms on their second day, getting ready to work out in the gym.<p>

"No, I noticed it," Bex told her as she changed into black shorts and a blue sports tank top.

"So what happens if there's a fire? We all burn?" Liz asked.

"No stupid. We're supposed to be trained enough to handle it," Macey chimed in, They all threw up their hair; a ponytail for Liz, a low side ponytail for Macey, a sloppy bun for Cammie, and a side French-braid for Bex. Glancing in the mirror quickly, they shrugged at their own reflections and linked arms as they went into the workout room. It wasn't packed but that was only due to its enormous size. Had it been a workout room anywhere else it probably would have exceeded maximum capacity. As it was the entire room was big enough to fit an entire football stadium, an Olympic pool, a basketball court and a small house. No joke. It was huge.

Cammie took it all in and realized that there was actually a basketball court off to her left in a separate room. The large area was wide open and you could see the other end clearly though no faces could be made out. It had rows of punching bags, treadmills, weights, mats for sparring or wrestling, a large area that looked like a floor for gymnastics, a trampoline, jump ropes, and two refreshment areas with water and fruit. If you were to walk right out the main doors to the gym you would also find a place to buy smoothies and coffee carts were rolling around the main areas of the building constantly. A lap pool was on the other side of the room from the basketball courts and they saw people doing everything from swimming laps to counting how long they could hold their breath; two people taking turns trying to 'drown' each other while the other fought their way to the surface.

They had seen the room briefly the day before but it somehow seemed a whole lot bigger now that they were standing there.

"Soo," Macey started sounding unusually uncomfortable. "What do we do now?"

"Well," Bex said slowly. "I think we're supposed to train." Macey mad a face at her friend and muttered.

"Funny Sherlock," but none of the girls made any move to go towards any of the gear. After a minute or so Bex grinned and nudged Macey who was to her right, nodding in towards the weights to their left.

"Let's go this way," Bex said. Liz and Cammie shared a surprised look before following their friends. However as they got closer Cam's face turned white and she grabbed Bex and Macey both by their elbows.

"Let's swim laps," she suggested. Liz still looked confused until her eyes also fell on the brown haired guy up ahead.

"No, let's go get a drink first. It's good to be hydrated," she said and took Cam by the arm, practically dragging her until they reached the table that had four guys by it. One was Jay, two were guys none of the girls had ever seen though they looked around twenty and twenty-five, and the fourth one was Zachary Goode.

"Hi Zach!" Liz greeted him brightly. "I wasn't expecting to see you here." Zach raised an eyebrow and said nothing for a moment as he continued to hold his paper cup.

"Yeah, I came on board a few months ago," he said finally. Liz nodded happily, Bex studied the gym again, Macey studied the guys by Zach, and Zach studied Cammie who was pointedly looking away from him.

"So are you going to introduce us?" Macey asked.

"Sure McHenry. This is Jay," he said indicating the guy to his right.

"We've met," Jay informed him.

"Calvin," he said, indicating the guy to his left. "And Peter," he finished indicating the guy beside Calvin.

"Call me Cal," Calvin said as he shook hands with each of the girls.

"And this is Rebecca—"

"Don't call me Rebecca Zachary," she said through gritted teeth. "It's Bex and Bex only." Zach shrugged.

"McHenry, Elizabeth ("Call me Liz"), and Cameron Morgan." Cam gave a small smile to each of the guys and shook hands with Calvin, still not meeting Zach's gaze.

"Cameron Morgan? As in the one you—" Peter cleared his throat loudly and Calvin quickly changed course, rumpling his light brown hair as he did. "Err, I mean the one who's family has been in this business for generations?"

"The very same," Cam said offering him a smile while still not meeting Zach's gaze. "So what do we do here anyways?"

"Ah…Newbie's," Cal said his blue eyes filled with glee.

"I'm not so sure I want his help," Macey mumbled.

"Nonsense!" Cal said in indignation. "I'll show you exactly what to do," Liz turned to follow him onto the mat and slammed right into some one. They both fell to the ground immediately and Liz hit her head on the table with and exclamation of,

"OW!" The boy in question didn't even give her a second glance; he just stood up and brushed himself off before continuing on his way.

"Yeah, that's real nice jackass," Macey called after him while Bex and Cammie reached down to help Liz up.

"I'll take her to get cleaned up," Bex said upon noticing that the table she fell against had given her a bloody nose. Peter and Jay decided to go play basketball and left with a quick 'see you later' and 'welcome to Langley.'

Cal was still standing on the mat waiting for Macey. Cam sent her a panicked look but Macey just shrugged almost imperceptibly before walking onto the mat.

"So do you want me to teach you some moves so we can spar?" Cal asked Macey. She didn't even bother looking offended and immediately pinned him down, much to his surprise.

"Don't bother going easy on me," she said before stepping back and letting him get up.

"So Gallagher Girl, how does it feel to finally be able to say you work for the CIA," Zach asked.

"You know…it's nice," she mumbled watching everyone spar. They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. They hadn't seen, or talked, to each other since Cam's graduation night when they had finally gone all the way. Of course her friends new about it. She watched Macey fight Cal while chanting in her head _my friends are evil._ They did it on purpose, she knew it.

"Well, I should probably start working," she said finally, velcroing her hand guards. She walked up to the nearest punching bag and started to hit it. Zach followed her. "How do you like working for the CIA?" she asked. Zach, standing beside her, shrugged.

"It's nice. Takes up a lot of time and I haven't been able to do much but whatever." Cammie nodded.

"And your friends? What's their deal?"

"Jay's been working here for years. He used to be in the field but his cover was blown during an op and the right side of his face got blown off. He can't hear out of that ear and his right leg was injured to the point of him being in a wheelchair for two years. He got out of it about a year ago and is coming back but I don't think he'll ever go on a mission again. He's a handler right now.

"Peter does computers. He was recruited right out of college and has been working here for two years. He went to Harvard. Cal never finished his degree at Stanford but he was always planning on working for the CIA. This is his first year to I met him on my first day. He's 21, got his GED from high school a year early, got into Stanford, used his contacts here and got a job. His grandfather worked for the CIA but his dad didn't want to and became a chef. Cal's parents wanted him to become a doctor and he's been pretending he still goes to Stanford."

"That's got to be hard," Cam commented, swinging her foot around to kick the punching bag.

"Not really. They don't like to travel and since they live in Connecticut they never come to see him. He went there for three years and knows enough about it to play it off. He tells stories about his real life and says they happened at college. He's gotten pretty good at lying to them and just says he has classes and has to turn his phone off for meetings or that his phone went dead when he's on a mission for the day."

"Still, I don't think I could lie to my mom like that," she said and Zach shrugged again.

"Your mom was CIA, has a clearance, and supports what you're doing. Not everyone gets that lucky," he said. "Come on, I'll give you a proper tour."

"We're not exactly dressed appropriately for work," Cam pointed out nodding to their workout clothes.

"I didn't mean the building I was talking about the people but if you'd prefer I'm sure we could get around the building without getting seen. 'Course if we were seen you would be in some deep shit but…."

"A people tour sounds great," Cam said, grinning despite herself. They walked around and Zach pointed out the people to avoid ("Sarah is really paranoid and does background checks on _everyone"_), the experienced operatives ("Leslie used to work with Joe"), the computer geeks ("Steven is one of the best even though he doesn't look like it), and their fellow field operatives. After doing a circle they were stopped at the door and Cam was handed a letter telling her, Bex, Liz, Macey, two girls named Brigitte and Elizabeth, and a guy named James all to report to the basement. Cam glanced at Zach who had read the note over her shoulder.

"Don't worry, it's just protocol, you'll all be getting new phones that are secured. You won't have to turn them off in the building anymore. You can keep your old ones if you want but they have to be turned off when you get within 100 ft. of the Langley grounds."

After twenty minutes of trying to locate everyone they all walked downstairs and were each given a phone that had been released three years ago and was now clean with a new number. They were handed to them all without a word and James and Elizabeth, who had both just been getting replacements left right after. The other five girls looked at each other for a minute.

"Welcome to Langley," Cammie muttered.

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><p><strong>AN: I meant to get this out ages ago but here's the deal: This is going to be a series of related but not chronologically ordered 1-shots, 2-shots, and occasionally 3-shots about Cammie, Bex, Macey, Liz, Zach, Cal, Jay, Peter and anyone else who I decide to add in. They may wind up being from C, B, M, L, Z, or a bystanders point of view. It may be in first, second, or third person but they will all be based in Cammie's first three years while working at the CIA.**

**My goal is to update every week no matter what. Please REVIEW and feel free to point out any mistakes I missed :D**


	2. Smashed

**Summary: Being 19 is hard enough. Being 19 with a fulltime, top-secret job is even harder. Add in alcohol, a hot non-boyfriend, and friends who take pleasure in your distraught and you've got the life of the CIA's new and legendary recruit: Cameron Morgan, the Chameleon.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing that comes from the Gallagher Girl books.**

**Smashed**

**Cammie/Zach**

**Romance**

Cammie woke up the second Thursday in July, a month and a half before she was due to enter her second year working with the CIA, with her quilt wrapped tightly around her body. Her head was pounding from a major hangover. She had to go to work today, she reminded herself, still half asleep and resigned to a day of feeling hung over while trying to appear that she had never had a sip of beer in her life as she was only 19.

She rolled over and glanced at the clock. 6:28. She had two minutes before her alarm would ring and one hour, forty-seven, no forty-six, minutes before she had to be at work. She figured there was no reason to try and sleep any longer so she reached over to turn the alarm clock off, realizing as she did so, that her arm was completely bare. Looking down at herself she remembered last night. She hadn't been completely wasted, a little past tipsy for sure, but not wasted. She had known what she was doing. Now, in hindsight, hooking up with a guy you kind of had feelings for after having a few to many drinks on a Thursday night after hanging out with friends who had just gotten back from Jamaica, which was the only reason you were at a bar even though you knew you had to go to work the next day, and said friends didn't…yeah, it probably wasn't the best idea.

This realization came with another one; half of her bed was empty. The blankets were messed up, the pillow obviously used, but the person who had been in that half of the bed the last night was no longer there. Cam immediately became pissed. She glared at the offensive spot. It was just like him to get up and leave her, just decide what was best and walk away from her because _he_, of course, knew what was best because he was Zachary Fucked-up Goode. She had already come up with three different scenarios that she could use to kill him while making it look like an accident but had decided against each one—the problem with fake accidental deaths was that they were usually quick and painless. She wanted his to be long and painful.

She jumped when she heard the water in her bathroom turn off. She hadn't realized it was on; the sound of it had been like a low hum in the background. She glanced at the clock quickly, it was still to early for any of her friends to be here, had any of them forgotten to pay the hot water bill and needed a place to shower. She had only wasted five minutes and fifty-three seconds envisioning the ways she could kill her quasi-non-boyfriend. The door opened and she jumped.

God, what was it this morning? Zach walked out with one of her white towels wrapped around his waist. She was surprised to see him and was 99 percent positive that it showed on her face. If Zach noticed it, he didn't comment on it.

"Hey," he said in his oh-so-casual I'm-19-and-don't-give-a-fuck-about-my-personal-life way.

"Hi," Cammie mumbled, becoming self-conscious as she held the blankets closer to her body and moved the majority of her hair over to the left side of her make-up less face.

Zach reached down and picked up his clothes from the floor.

"How do you get to the dry-cleaners from here?" he asked her.

"Magistries?" she asked (referring to the local, family owned one most people used) and he nodded. "It's not far. Go left out of here and turn right at the first intersection. It's at the end of that block. They don't open 'til seven thirty though."

"Yeah, I know," he said. Cammie nodded. As soon as he turned away she wrapped one of her sheets completely around herself and went into the bathroom so that she could take a shower as well. Today was an office day, not a workout morning. Had it been a workout morning she would have woken up later and not bothered with a shower for it was completely pointless. She put on pajama shorts, a tank top, and her make-up before stepping back into the room, her towel still around her shoulders for her wet hair.

She ate cereal for breakfast and when 7:30 struck she was making the bed. Zach came up behind her, taking her left arm and turning her around to face him.

"I have to go," he said quietly. She got shivers as she listened to his deep voice. He leaned in slowly and kissed her long and soft, before leaving to go to work.

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><p>When Cammie got to work she had a coffee in her hand and was already holding a pile of paperwork that one of the senior operatives didn't feel like doing and had therefore passed it on to her. She dropped the (very large) file on her desk just as Macey came up beside her.<p>

"So Cam, good night?" She asked. Cammie glared at her.

"It was fine," she mumbled.

"Are you as hung-over as I am," she mumbled quietly and Cammie nodded; her head was _still_ pounding.

"Yeah. And I woke up with a visitor in my bed. Thank you, by the way, for making sure that I didn't make a bad decision whilst intoxicated," she said sarcastically.

"Hey, I was more smashed than you were. Liz was worse and Bex was right behind us," she pointed out. Liz, though looking like Miss Innocent, could not hold her licker. Despite having the same amount of shots and beer as her friends she always wound up being worse off. "At least none of us were stupid enough to drive home."

"Fair point," Cammie said. "Where is Liz anyways?"

"She called in to say she wasn't feeling good last night and was going to come in late."

"Why is it that even when we're drunk she's smarter than me?" Cammie demanded.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, you were probably otherwise occupied," Macey said with a smirk.

"Morgan," her boss barked from the platform above her. "My office. Now."

"Uh-oh," Macey mumbled. Cammie laughed. Her boss looked scary but he really wasn't _that_ bad. Sure he was on fifteen countries most wanted list, had captured over fifty foreign operatives, visited more than twenty countries that didn't appear on a world map, and had a license to kill people without a cause but…alright. So he was _that bad._

She wasn't alone. Bex, Zach, Cal, Samuel, Evelyn, Lacey, Taylor, Tyler, and Evan had all been called in as well. There was a large round table and they each sat down. Cammie was between Bex and Evil Evelyn.

"Are you hung over?" Evil Evelyn asked, looking at both her and Bex shrewdly.

_That obvious?_ Cam wondered. But instead she said,

"Don't be ridiculous. Why would we get drunk when we had to show up for work the next day," Evelyn huffed and looked away.

"So, was Zach as good in bed as you remembered?" Bex whispered. Cammie blushed.

"Shut-up Bex," she mumbled, glancing discreetly around to make sure no one had heard her.

"Just making conversation…Was he still there when you woke up?" she asked. Cam felt eyes on her and glanced to her left. A few seats away from Bex Zach was watching her, still having a conversation with Cal.

"Yes, he was still there," she muttered.

"Really?" Bex asked. Cammie nodded.

"I was just as surprised as you are," she admitted before their attention was called upon by the mission details.

The meeting was adjourned ten minutes later and everyone stood up, getting their things together and talking to their colleagues—the majority of which were procrastinating the paperwork on their desks.

"And it didn't really make—"

"Good luck," Bex cut Cam off, leaving abruptly. Cammie was puzzled for less than ten seconds before she saw Zach come up beside her left.

"So, last night," he started, casually glancing around to make sure they weren't overheard. Agents dating agents wasn't against the rules but it wasn't encouraged either, especially for the younger ones who had a tendency to break up within three months, leaving at least one of them bitter.

"Yeah," Cam said. "Nice of you to stick around this time." Six months ago they had been on an overnight mission in Alaska. He had skipped out before she was awake. Similarly, three months into her job with the CIA Cam had woken up before him and taken a shower. When she got out, he was gone. Even after her graduation he hadn't said a word to her before they were both leaving the country. In that case it was "Have fun in Paris." Needless to say, it wasn't surprising that her expectations of how he acted post-hookup weren't high.

He looked at her curiously for a minute before a smirk appeared on his suddenly amused face.

"You're actually annoyed that I didn't ditch," he said, sounding like he was about to laugh. Cammie turned red.

"I am not you jackass. I merely don't have very high expectations for you."

"That's not how it sounded last night," he teased her. If his goal was to get a rise out of her he definitely succeeded. She took a deep breath to calm herself and he went on.

"You were actually _hoping_ that I would ditch you this morning, that way you could yell at me, blame it on the alcohol, and be done with it. News flash, Gallagher Girl, if you remember half of what went down last night you know you can't blame that all on being slightly intoxicated. I kind of liked this whole 'hanging around' thing. Maybe next time I'll even cook you breakfast," he said with another smirk before pushing himself away from the table, and her.

"There won't be a next time," she called after him, causing the other four people in the room to look at her curiously. "Hangover," she covered lamely, forgetting for moment that she wasn't legally allowed to drink. They all shrugged and went back to their conversations. She sat at her desk doing paperwork for the rest of the day, which sucked because it gave her ample time to mull over what Zach had said. By the end of the day she had decided on three things:

1) Zach was an annoying son of a bitch (figuratively, and literally).

2) He could read her wayyy to easily. And

3) She would never, ever hook up with him again.

The first two her friends completely agreed with her on. The third one they scoffed at and shared looks that clearly showed disbelief. By the next morning everyone in her and Zach's circle of friends had cast a bet on how long her resolve would last. The longest one was six months. The shortest two days. In actuality, it was somewhere in the middle.

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has alerted and favorited this story! And especially thanks to the REVIEWers (Lemonn-Limee, Kokylinda, yoo its madd kaiit, and GallagherGirl530). You guys make my day. This was set towards the end of her first year with the CIA.**

**Just to clear up some confusion: Hopefully what happened with Zach became more clear but basically they're not together, best friends, or bitter. They're just young adults living their lives.**

**My guess is CIA agents do get paid well but if you're an eighteen year old just starting to learn the ropes, obviously you won't get paid as much. And they _do_ receive a paycheck from the government so with the recession all of the paychecks, at least for younger workers, are getting cut :D**

**Wow, long AN. Anyways, please review! Any suggestions for upcoming one, two, or even three-shots are welcome And as always constructive criticism is appreciated.**


	3. Stanford's

**Summary: California is supposed to be sunny and warm. It's supposed to be full of beautiful beaches, give you a tan year round, and be relaxing. It's not supposed to be cold and rainy. You're not supposed to spend your time breaking into rooms with locked doors, trying to make sure no guns are drawn, and dealing with family drama. Or so Macey McHenry thought before she started working for the CIA.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**Stanford**

**Macey McHenry/Calvin Peterson**

**Friendship/Action/Adventure**

**Three-shot**

My dad's a retired senator, my mom's a cosmetic spokeswoman, and I'm a spy working for the CIA. You know who I am.

Since starting at the CIA I've done a lot of different jobs, traveled to a lot of different countries and dealt with more bullshit than I thought existed in the world. And coming from me that is saying a lot. But I've held my own. With everyone except one person: Calvin Peterson. Despite what my friends will say to the contrary, I'm not a boy expert. I grew up with three guy cousins who were around my age and messing around with them and their friends helped a lot but I am still far from being an expert. I have been just as befuddled by the way their mind works as my friends. Sometimes you have to just accept and not analyze.

* * *

><p>"Yo, McHenry!" Cal called out Wednesday morning, which, as it happens, was my birthday. And since it was my birthday, I could do what I wanted and in this case it was completely ignore him. Obviously, that didn't rub well with him but I would be willing to bet that for this particular player it had more to do with the way it looked to his friends than the fact that I was ignoring him.<p>

"Hey, McHenry," he said, catching my arm a few seconds later as I was rounding the corner.

"Hey," I replied, shifting the papers I was holding so that my arms could be crossed.

"Did you become temporarily deaf because I called you when you passed by my office."

"Don't you mean cubicle?" I corrected and he glared at me. "Okay, what did you want?" I gave in, not particularly wanting to get into a screaming match at the moment. We have those a lot actually.

"I want your help with a case I've been assigned," he said. "I have to go to California. Stanford actually."

"Why?" I asked suspiciously.

"Well, I'm kind of graduating." I raised my eyebrows. "Well, fake graduating, actually." My eyebrows rose higher.

"And this is an assignment how exactly?" I asked.

"Well, timing was actually in my favor. See, there's this guy who's graduating and they asked me to keep an eye on him."

"Because…" I probed.

"Because he's a scientific genius. I'll give you more info if you agree to go with me."

"Why do you need _me_ to go with you?" I asked.

"Because I sent my parents fake graduation tickets that I bribed a techie to make for me," he explained. "I didn't think they'd come because they haven't traveled in years but then they called, and said they had gotten plane tickets and couldn't wait. So now I need to walk across that stage and graduate."

"You are going to trick your parents into believing that you, you Calvin Peterson, managed to stay at Stanford studying for a medical degree, and are now, five and a half years later, getting your undergrad."

"Pretty much," he said.

"And you really think they're falling for this?" I had to ask.

"I told my parents that I was double majoring, takes longer. And then I traveled to Africa for a semester (which wasn't a complete lie, by the way) to study down there but that I didn't get the required credits for the semester. But now, with all of my credits and experience, I'll be a doctor in no time."

"And they believed that?" I asked skeptically. Cal shrugged.

"They don't know much more about doctors than I do, so yeah," he said, sounding as unconcerned as he always did.

"Why didn't you ask Zach? He would have helped you. And he'd ask fewer questions, and annoy you way less. Heck, he'd probably be your wingman so you could hook-up with some of the college girls," I pointed out.

"Yeah probably," he said amicably. "But Zach's in Brazil with Cam until Sunday so…I also considered Peter but he doesn't like going against proto-cal very much and most of this needs to be off the books. Then there was Cammie, who would have been my second choice after Zach but obviously she's gone too. Then I thought of Bex, but she still scares me a little and there's something going on with her parents and M-16 that she's been working on and it's making her grumpy. So then I thought of Liz. But while her techno skills would come in handy, she can't lie to save her life and she's the clumsiest person I know. And so," he said, finally getting to the end of his ramble. "By process of elimination, I realized that you were the perfect candidate." And of course he ended his whole speech with a wide smile that looked like he was trying to become Miss America.

"Wow," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I feel honored."

"You should." Cal said, nodding his head in approval. "Our flight leaves at eight tomorrow morning. Meet me in Dulles at six." He handed me a boarding pass and started walking away.

"I haven't said 'yes' yet," I called after him. He turned to face me, a grin lighting up his face.

"Ah, but you were about to." And screw him for being right. Who was I to turn down a trip to California?

"By the way," he added as he got further away. "Happy birthday."

* * *

><p>When I got to the airport at seven (who actually shows up for their flight two hours early?) Cal was already sitting in a black and silver chair listening to his iPod.<p>

"Hey McHenry," he said without turning around, looking up, or taking out his earphones.

"Hi," I said, taking the seat beside him, placing my carry-on bag at my feet. Five years ago if I had to pack for California I would have had to check at least two bags. But I had become more efficient at packing and to be honest, I was actually proud of that. People still call me a bitch, and I won't deny that I am one, but materialistic is used…less.

When we landed the rain was pouring and the winter air freezing.

"This is California right?" I asked Cal. This was not the right weather to wear my sundresses.

"Course," he said, sounding unconcerned as he pulled on a hoodie. "But it's December."

"So? It's California. The sunshine state!"

"Isn't Florida the Sunshine State?" he mused while I glared. "Look, we're in Northern Cali. It's way more temperate than LA. I guess I should've warned you."

"No shit," I mumbled.

"Sorry," he apologized. I gawked at him.

"Did Calvin Peterson just apologize? Some one alert the media. This is a historic moment my friend."

"Shut up," he said but he was grinning as he nudged me and despite his lack of communication skills, I grinned back. We were in California after all.

* * *

><p>When we got to Stanford I discovered the reason for Cal's personality transformation. There was more to the story than he was letting on.<p>

"Hurry up, would you," he hissed. "We look a little strange here."

"If you're such an expert, you do it," I mumbled.

"I would but in case you haven't noticed, I have a cast on my left arm."

"Oh, I noticed. I noticed when you pitied the flight attendant into giving you free pretzels, I noticed when you used it as a ploy to hit on the girl across the isle, I noticed when…got it!" I exclaimed. We were in.

"Huh, it's smaller than I remembered," Cal said, dumping his suitcase on the dorm bed. "Oh, there's one more thing I need help with tonight—"

"Cal I swear to God if you—"

"You'll like this," he cut me off. "I promise." I don't know why I trusted him but there was something about the way he was looking at me that made me relent. After I nodded he opened his smaller carry-on bag and started pulling things out—pictures, posters, cards, college propaganda, etc.

"Personalizing the dorm room," he explained upon seeing my confused look. "So that it looks like I've been living here all semester."

Two hours and three pink glitter bottles (okay, so the last part of that's a lie) later the room was done.

"So McHenry, tell me about yourself," Cal said as we sat at Starbucks drinking hot chocolates.

"What do you want to know?" I asked apprehensively.

"I don't know. Anything. What's your favorite color?"

"Purple."

"What's your least favorite food?"

"Caviar."

"What's the craziest thing you've ever done?"

"Ah, and now he gets to the good stuff," I teased.

"Avoiding the question," he tsked at me.

"That's because you don't want to know." He raised his eyebrows.

"Now I'm intrigued," he said leaning forward.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," I said, deciding to counter his offer.

"Fair enough," he conceded. "I joined the CIA and then lied to my parents about going to Stanford and I'm about to stage a fake graduation. Your turn."

"Lame," I said. "Tell me something I don't know." I was expecting him to fight me over it but he surprised me.

"Fine. I'll give you my life story and you can decide. When I was five I threw a baseball and broke my neighbors window."

"Cliché," I snorted. He shrugged and kept going.

"When I was ten I stole one of the flashing yellow lights from the road where they were doing construction and put it under my white shirt to hide it when I saw a car. When I was rolling down the hill, it looked like I was flashing. They hit a bunny." I laughed but shook my head and he kept going.

"When I was thirteen I snuck into the neighborhood pool after hours and had pool parties with other kids from the neighborhood with snacks and music." Again I shook my head. Was he serious?

"When I was fifteen I had sex with a girl at school," I choked on my hot chocolate but he kept going. "When I was sixteen I new a cop had caught me speeding so I turned off at the first side road I came to and made a few turns so that he wouldn't find me and then I hung out on the side of the road and read a book for a while. When I thought it had been long enough I went back onto the main road just as the cop was coming back from searching for me and he pulled me over, asking if I knew that hiding from a cop was illegal. I told him I wasn't hiding from him and that I had gone to visit my grandmother. He gave me a ticket anyways." I laughed again and he cracked a smile as he continued.

"When I was seventeen I graduated high school and got into Stanford and I found a guy who made me a crappy fake ID that worked to get me into clubs where I would drink and hook up with sluts. When I was 19 I got fed up and quit, moved to DC and tried to break into the big L. I was busted but I was already in the grounds. They through me in a holding cell but then I told them my last name, said I wanted to sign up, and they sent me to the farm for a year. I then lied to my parents about going to school and now I'm about to lie to them about graduating, and soon I'll lie to them about being a doctor," he finished. I gaped at him.

"You broke into Langley?" I whispered. He nodded and I sat back. "I feel like I should be more surprised than I am," I said.

"Your turn," he said without missing a beat. "Craziest thing you've ever done."

"Alright. I got expelled from seven different boarding schools before I went to Gallagher."

"Nice," he said appreciatively.

"You do realize you're probably the only person who would think that's cool, right?"

"That's because not everyone gets you like I do. But in order for that to count you have to tell me how." I shrugged.

"Fine. Let's see…I vandalized a gym when I was twelve, flooded a school and got caught with alcohol on campus at thirteen, went to class high, hooked up with a guy instead of going to math class, and smoked at 14, and crashed my headmasters car after going for a joyride in his car without a permit or permission to have his keys at 15."

"Damn McHenry. That's not a half-bad life." I laughed. "I don't think you beat me, but I'll go with even," he decided.

"Oh please, you're just saying that because you know that I—" he put his hand up to cut me off.

"Wait. This is the longest time we've spent together without arguing." I considered him for a minute.

"Fine. It's a tie," I conceded. He nodded.

"Hey, what do your parents think your doing?" he asked a few minutes later.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I know your dad was a senator but does he have clearance…"

"Oh," I said catching on. "I don't know if he has a clearance but I don't talk to them anymore. We've never had the best relationship and now that my dad's retired it doesn't matter. I doubt we could pick each other out in a crowd." I said matter-of-factly. Because that is just how my family is.

As we walked out, I fingered my long hair that was loosely curled at the end. It was true that my parents probably wouldn't recognize me. Last they had seen I had a blue streak in my short hair, I wore a fake nose ring just to piss them off, I was 'smoking' cigarettes with my friends, and I was wearing way more make-up then than I do now. But more than anything, I'm happy now. When they had actually attempted to know me, or at least pretend like they gave a shit about me, I wasn't the least bit happy. And with my happiness came confidence that, despite my act, I haven't had in a long time, if ever. And that had transformed me more than anything else.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Alright. It took me longer than I was hoping but in my defense...IT'S SUMMER! Yeah, it's almost as bad as school. Oh well, hope you liked it, it took me forever to get it right, it just wasn't working so REVIEW and tell me what you think. I love Macey and wanted to focus on her for a little while. It's based in December in her second year.**

**Thank you to my last few REVIEWers (Lemonn-Limee, anonymous, , GallagherGirl530, Kokylinda, anonymous, ms. eyes, hard2getchameleon, Jazz-shoes). You guys are amazing and I'm so sorry it took so long. And thanks to everyone who has alerted and favorited too, I love it when my inbox fills up with responses. :D Next chapter is Cal's POV.**


	4. Fake

**Summary: Family is one of the most complex things in the world. With an over-emotional mom, tough-as-nails-dad, and three older sisters Calvin Peterson is well aware of the complexities family can bring. When he first started lying to his parents about going to Stanford while really working at the CIA he didn't think anything of it. It kept them happy and out of his top-secret life. But when his family life, fake life, and professional life all crash into each other, he knows that he is in major trouble.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Technically.**

**Stanford's Fake**

**Macey McHenry/Calvin Peterson**

**Friendship/Family**

**Three-shot**

Covert Operations are dangerous, adventurous, and anything but steady, easy, and predictable. Just like me. My parents are the complete opposite. They love steady and predictable. They believe in hard work I suppose, but not in the laborious, life threatening way that I like. They wanted me to be a doctor because they wanted better for me than what they had. Instead of a small house in a small town they wanted me to have all the money I could ever want. I think they thought it would make me happy. Sending me to Stanford was a part of their grand plan. It was supposed to straighten me out. When I was a kid I was always a bit crazy, doing things just for the thrill of it. My mom never minded it much; she'd usually laugh and say I was just being a kid. My dad thought she was babying me and that I needed to grow up and take responsibility. And I did. Just not in the way he imagined it. My mom might accept it. Probably cry and make me promise not to die. My dad would be pissed though. He knew my Granddad was a spy and he despised the idea. He didn't think of it as serving your country but as betraying another one. I saw it as what I was born to do. And if I died like my Granddad did then at least I would be happy. I know they want what's best for me but my dad's view of me has always been obscured by his anger with Granddad for dying when he was 15, leaving him with a mother who went into depression and five younger siblings who he was responsible for. I just wish he'd recognize that I wasn't him. I believe in what I'm doing and if I have to lie to him to be able to continue having a relationship with my family and having a job that I love…it doesn't seem like I have much of a choice.

On Wednesday morning, the second day of McHenry and my trip to Cali, I made a discovery. The reason why McHenry works in the Department of Concealment and Disguise: She can't shut up! Seriously, she should just announce to the whole world that we're here to recruit an asset for the CIA. Why doesn't she just go on National TV and tell the Russian's to back off because we already called him?

Anyways…McHenry got up before me and I still wound up waiting for her. She's lucky I have three older sisters and am semi-used to this because were I not I would have been _really_ annoyed. Well, I was annoyed but I hid it well behind the foot-tapping, loud sighs, and banging on the door. Okay, so maybe I wasn't particularly discreet but to be fair she takes a longgg time to get ready. Though I do have to admit the end result did make her look like a hot college chick.

She walked out with an annoyed expression but I was to preoccupied by her long legs sticking out of her jean mini-skirt to really notice. She walked up to me to grab her bag that was sitting beside me and finally noticed that I wasn't listening to her talk and smacked me on the back of my head.

"Eyes up here bucko," she said.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied. With most girls I'd pull out a quick pick-up line and ask them out. With McHenry I knew that probably wasn't the best idea. And so I didn't say anything to elevate the situation and she let it drop. Surprisingly.

"Well, I guess we should go and meet our new asset…"I blanched. And it takes a lot for me to visibly blanch. She hadn't even finished the word before I reached up and yanked her down on the bed, covering her mouth. "Friend?" she said weakly when I removed my hand.

"Let's not yell it out to the world, okay?" I said, torn between feeling a little bad for her and being really annoyed. It was then that I realized our slightly awkward position: me positioned half over her, my hands resting on either side.

"Sorry," I apologized, rolling off her so that we were laying side-by-side on the bed. "I just don't want this to turn into a blood-bath."

"You do realize you've probably apologized more in the last twenty-four hours than you have in the two year I've known you, right? Anyways," she went on before I had time to say anything, "We should probably meet our _friend_ as soon as possible because we've only got so much time and we still need to make sure everything's in order for your graduation. It shouldn't be too hard to find a graduation robe, they always have extra's so we'll just have to figure out where they keep them and then your name still needs to be added but that'll take all of five minutes."

"We should head towards the sorority houses," I told her. "He has a girlfriend that's in one and he spends most of his time hanging out there."

"Alright," she agreed, picking up her purse and heading out the door, me right behind. My Intel was good and it didn't take long to find him, sitting on the sorority house steps surrounded by his friends.

"How do we approach him?" McHenry whispered as we casually lurked next to a nearby bench. I shrugged, thinking over the folder I had read on him. As it turned out it didn't really matter because his friend gave us our opening as he and David (our soon-to-be-asset) went over to the coffee cart. McHenry and I followed them over and I 'accidentally' spilled coffee all over David's friend.

"What the Hell!" he demanded.

"Sorry," I lied. He looked pissed and was opening his mouth with some angry retort just as McHenry came up beside me.

"Oh my God!" she said, sounding concerned. "Are you okay? God Calvin, you are such a klutz," _well thanks,_ I thought, "Please excuse my cousin. He's ruined more of my shirts than I can count," she said, rolling her eyes. The guy immediately smiled.

"It's no problem," _not anymore, loser._ "What're washing machines for, right?" _Uh, a washing machine won't necessarily get that out._

"Right!" McHenry exclaimed, sounding chipper. "I'll walk you to the laundry room if you want. I don't go here, so you'll have to show me where it is," she added.

"Sure thing," he replied, smiling. David shook his head at his friend before looking back over at me.

"Hey, since your cousin bailed you could hang out with us until they get back," he offered. "We're celebrating graduation. Well, Melissa and I are, the rest of them have another semester." _Bulls-eye._

"Sure," I agreed and walked back over to the steps with him. I had to hand it to McHenry; it was a pretty good plan. She meets his friend which gives her an in with their whole group, I talk up David and meet people who will know me when I graduate, and we gain his trust without his knowledge.

"So Calvin," Bryan, one of David's friends, said after we had all been introduced. "How much longer do you have before you graduate?"

"I'm graduating day after tomorrow," I told them. "That's why my cousin's here. Well, that and she wanted to see Cali. I don't think it sunk in that Palo Alto isn't the same as LA until she got here and realized she wouldn't have a chance to get a tan or meet celebrities."

Half an hour later McHenry returned with David's friend who's name turned out to be Jake. Two hours after that we split from them to get our side job done. We split the plan up into three main parts.

Adding my name in the Data Base

Switching the old list with our list

Getting a cap and gown

The first one required us hacking the schools computer which wouldn't be hard as long as we could distract people long enough, or be discreet enough, that no one would notice or question what we were doing. The second we decided to do that night because picking a lock and disarming the alarm is a lot easier than getting into an office full of people doing last minute preparation. The last one would have to be done in two parts. First we had to figure out where the gowns were kept, the ones that were being used and the extras, and then we would just have to add one.

"You know," McHenry said as we walked back to our temporary dorm. "It might be easier for us to just find out where they keep them and have you appear already dressed rather than having to add another robe to the racks. I think it'll make it easier." As it turned out she was right but our first order of business was to hack the school's computer.

There are three main ways to hack a computer. The first is to send something like a virus to the computer. You disguise it as some security program or website and if they accept it or go on the fake website you're in. It's less risky if you're worried about getting caught but there's no guarantee that they'll accept it. The second requires their information to be online, available to all the computers in the building or with the right username and/or password, like what the CIA has. You can get caught but it's what most people like to do best. The third approach is much more hands on, allows you to get information only on that computer, and increases your risk of getting caught. McHenry and I went with a mixture between the second and third.

"You ready?" she asked, putting her earpiece in place.

"Yep," I said, securing my watch. Now, before you go getting any ideas, we weren't dressed in black even though the sun had gone down. Instead we were both in jeans and jackets because without the sun it had dropped about ten degrees, and headed over to the library where we could connect laptop to the school's server. It took all of five minutes before we were in and then it was just getting past the little bit of encryption they had so that we could access what we needed.

"Ugh," McHenry exclaimed five minutes in. "I can't break this."

"Let me see," I said, pulling it off her lap. I started typing while she peered over my shoulder. "Got it," I said with a grin, less than three minutes in. She glared at me.

"I could have managed it," she said through gritted teeth. I couldn't help it. I rolled my eyes, which pissed her off even more. "I could have. You just felt the need to—"

"Oh would you shut up?" I demanded, exasperated. "A simple 'thank you' would work fine."

"Thank you? You're the one who wanted to do this whole fake-graduation thing. I just came along for the ride. If anyone should be saying thank you it should be you. And I could have broken that encryption myself if you hadn't yanked the laptop away from me."

"BS," I protested. "You were stuck. Just admit it."

"Excuse me," a girl cut in. "Would the two of you mind quieting down. Some of us are trying to work here."

"What're you working on?" I asked. "It's the end of the semester."

"For people who actually take their work seriously, breaks are a time to get ahead. If you're not working why don't you just leave?" She looked like a bitch with her pin straight back, brown hair in a blunt bob, and know-it-all attitude.

"Ignore him," McHenry cut in. "He's a dick who hasn't matured since fifth grade. But you really should take a break on the holidays," she added. "If you work all the time you'll get pre-mature wrinkles which could really affect you for the rest of your life. You should make sure to moisturize for now. There's this great new cream—" I cut her off and pulled her away from the girl who was now touching her forehead.

"Hey," she protested. "I was trying to help that girl!"

"She's beyond helping," I said. "Now let's just find this list…"

It was ten thirty by the time we found it and printed it from one of the available printers. We had to use a student ID but Fred Argentine left his card in plain sight so it wasn't a problem.

"Okay, they usually leave at nine so his office should be open," McHenry said quietly as she took the new and improved list out of the printer.

We slipped through the building without anyone questioning our motives. The dean of admissions office was way at the back, which benefited us since we had to pick the lock. I tried first while McHenry kept guard but I couldn't get it.

"Would you hurry up? My Grandmother could pick a lock faster than you." _Well that's a bit harsh,_ I thought.

"Was your grandmother a locksmith," I asked anyways.

"No, she was a model. And my other one was a lawyer. My step grandmother was psychologist but she grew up in the ghetto. She actually taught me how to pick locks when I was seven. It's really come in handy." She talked like we were just having a casual dinner at Ruby Tuesday's instead of trying to break into the dean's office.

"Well then I'll assume you were comparing me to your step-grandmother," I said. Though being compared to a model wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing…

"You can't," McHenry said, bursting my bubble. "I said 'my grandmother'. Not my 'step grandmother'."

"Same thing," I said, waving it away.

"It's not the same thing."

"So what, you call two of them grandmother and the other one step-grandmother?"

"No. I call the model one 'the-one-I-never-met' because she died before I was born, I call the lawyer 'worse-than-her-son-which-is-saying-something', and I call my step-grandmother Eileen because that's her name. And she's the only person in my family I ever see because she's the only one without a superiority complex."

"So does that include you?" I couldn't resist asking.

"Yep. I have major ego issues," she said unabashedly. It sounded like she was just stating a fact and it caused me to look her way, surprised; only to see that she was smiling, making a joke out of it.

"Okay," she snapped right after. "I've given you over ten minutes. Now move out of the way and let me do it." I handed the kit to her without arguing. I would never admit it out loud but picking locks is not, in any way, my strong point. It nearly killed me at the farm.

"How did you make it to…where you are now without being able to pick locks?" she asked as she easily picked it and opened the door.

"I totally made that easier for you," I told her as we stepped in and I disabled the alarm.

"Sure you did," she said seriously though I knew it was only to humor me. "But seriously. How did you get your job if you couldn't pick an ordinary lock?"

"Well, my charming personality, daring spirit, and unbelievably good looks always help me," I said, winking at her.

"BS," she mumbled as she opened the desk drawers. The list was sitting right on top but we were in trouble. They had already put the names on a scroll like paper.

"Shit," I hissed.

"Don't swear," she reprimanded, though why she chose to do so now I wasn't sure. "But yeah. What you said."

"You don't swear?" I asked, amused. She sighed.

"I prefer not to though it's a hard habit to break, I'll admit. It just doesn't sound good."

"The point is for it not to sound good."

"But it sounds trashy. Like you're not smart enough to find any other word that would appropriately fit under the circumstances."

"So it's about sounding smart."

"No, it's about not sounding dumb."

"But you do swear."

"Yeah, but I don't like swearing. It just comes out."

"Huh, who would've thought Macey McHenry was concerned about _sounding_ smart."

"I just said it's not about being smart, it's about not being dumb."

"But you are smart."

"But not everyone knows that."

"So you have to make sure that other people think you're smart, it's not enough that you know," I stated. She shrugged.

"I told you I have ego issues," she said.

"But caring what other people isn't having a superiority complex."

"Isn't it?" she asked.

"No, it's caring what other people think because you want approval and your own approval isn't enough."

"So you don't think I'm full of it?"

"No, you're definitely full of it, you're just not as full of it as you think you are."

"But if I'm not as full of it as I think I am than wouldn't my ego be bigger because I think I think I'm better than I really think I am."

"No because you'd be fooling yourself into thinking that you think your better than you really think you are. So it all comes down to being a good actress and lying to yourself so that you can think that your as full of it as you think even though your not as full of it as you think you think you are," I finished, proud of myself for coming up with a response that made her pause before she shot out an answer.

"So if I'm a good actress and good at lying to myself then I'd be as good as I think I think I am and so lying to myself doesn't really matter because I should be as full of it as I think I am."

"But you're not as full of it as you think you are even if you should be so I'd still win this argument."

"I don't even know what I'm arguing for," she said. I shrugged.

"I don't either. I used up all my insightfulness in my first sentence." She snorted.

"What insightfulness?" Without my realization she had pulled the old typewriter out from the corner of the room and was copying the names on the list as we argued.

"The insightfulness that you'll never have because it comes from spending time in college," I said. She rolled her eyes. So it was a lame comeback. Who cares?

She stuck her tongue out at me, which made me feel better. She was too burned out form the day to come up with a good comeback as well.

I set the alarm for eight on our second day. We had gotten back to the dorm at midnight after finishing the list and I was exhausted when the alarm started to beep. McHenry apparently shared my feelings as I heard her groan, throw something, and turned over to see her shoving her pillow over her ears. With a sigh I got up because today was going to be torture. Today, my parents would arrive to see their only son, and youngest kid, graduate from Stanford. And I was supposed to pick them up from the airport at 10.

"Turn it off Cal," McHenry mumbled into her sheets.

"Can't do that McHenry," I told her, making myself sound cheerful even though I wanted nothing more than to throw the alarm at the wall and go back to sleep. "You have to get up. My parents are coming in two hours and we have to pick them up from the airport."

"No," she mumbled. "_You_ have to pick them up from the airport. I can sleep."

"No you can't. You have to go and become even better friends with David so that he'll be all for helping us out," I said. Now I just had to think of an excuse to tell my parents when I showed up at the airport without my fake girlfriend. Though I guess it's better that McHenry won't be there, they probably wouldn't like her much…

I was waiting for them when they got in and my mother immediately started fussing over me. Apparently I looked healthier than I had the last time I had seen them (though to be fair I was a mess with illegal substances then) and I looked _so much older_. I was 'practically a grown man'.

It took twenty minutes of nodding, smiling, and letting my mom hug me before we left to go to the baggage claim. The belt was already moving for once and ten minutes later we had their two bags and were leaving.

"Uh, mom?" I asked as we left. "How long are you planning on staying? I thought you guys were flying out day after graduation…"

"We are sweetheart," she said. "But I wasn't sure what to expect. I've never been to California before and so I had to bring options. Plus, we weren't sure how fancy graduation was here. And we have a few things for you, and for your girlfriend. We can't wait to meet her."

"Meet her?" I asked. This was not part of my plan. I only made up a girlfriend to get my dad off my back about growing up and accepting responsibility and to come up with a reason for cleaning up my life without them knowing I had joined the CIA despite my dad's prejudices.

"Of course," my mom said, sounding excited. "She's the longest relationship you've had. We've wanted to meet her for a while but you haven't visited us in over three years." I guess my dad could see me panicking because he cut in then.

"Honestly Pam, can't you see he's already screwed this one up? He came alone, or has my eyesight gotten so bad that I'm not seeing a fourth member to our party?" I could definitely argue that his eyesight _was_ that bad with his unusually thick lenses in his round glasses. "I knew he couldn't hold onto her."

"Frank!' My mother said, sounding angry.

"I'm still with her," I blurted, knowing I was screwing myself even as I said it. "She went out with friends today so that I could visit with you guys and catch up. She didn't want to intrude on our family time."

"You see," my mother said. "Leave the poor boy alone," _thank you_. "But really dear. You can't blame him for judging you when we haven't seen you for three years," she added quietly as we waited for my dad to close the trunk and get in the car. _I take my 'thank you' back._

The entire ride to their hotel, half an hour from the school, was spent with them trying to guilt trip me for not coming home in so long. I'll admit I felt a little guilty when my mom talked about it.

"You're our youngest and we don't even get to see you enjoying your college experience. If money was an issue we were always willing to pay for your plane ticket. We just wanted to see you for ourselves. You were going through such a rough time last we saw you."

Truth is I'm pretty close to my family. All three of my sisters know that I'm working for the CIA and I go visit them when I can. Anytime they're around DC they stop in to see me as well. My oldest sister already has three kids and I know each of them well enough. My middle sister has a baby and she even made me godfather. I went to Philadelphia for the baptism but my parents wouldn't even make that trip. Claire is closest in age to me at 28. She's single and happy in New York and she's probably the one I see most. She's an artist and has a flat in the Upper East Side. She was briefly married to some movie director two years ago but they eloped and got divorced ten months later, leaving her with a good bit of money. Add it to the money she makes from her gallery and she's been doing pretty well for herself.

But my parents are tougher to get along with. My mom means well but has a tendency to hover and give my dad all the power, which really pisses me off. She's let my dad do what he wants for as long as I can remember though the one time he hit me she got madder than I've ever seen her. She's usually very calm and looks fragile but when she's mad no one messes with her. My dad means well too, I suppose, but he's always been hard on me. Thinks I could do more than I am if I were to put the effort in. He just shows it by criticizing everything I do. Going to Stanford is the one decision I made that he's never said a bad word about which is why I wanted to stage the fake graduation. Even if we don't see eye-to-eye on…well, anything, he's always wanted me to graduate college and I can't bring myself to tell him that I dropped out.

We walked around and I played tour guide, repeating what I'd hear people saying about the school's history and pointing out a few places I still remembered from when I had actually gone to school here. When they asked to see my dorm I suddenly remembered the one loophole in my perfectly crafted plan. McHenry's stuff was still in there. My dad's eyesight was bad but I'm pretty sure they would both notice a pink make-up bag. I tried to call McHenry to tell her to hide her stuff but she didn't pick up.

I was already thinking up excuses when my mom gasped as she entered the room.

"Uh," was my brilliant reply. I could say my girlfriend was staying with me but I don't think they'd be too crazy about that either.

"You've really made this your own," my mom said. Okay, I was expecting more of a 'why do you have a suitcase with skirts and bras hanging out?' But when I walked in I was surprised too. McHenry's bed was made neatly and none of her stuff was in view.

My mom gushed over my photos, saying that she wished they were staying to meet all my friends (who I had said went home for Christmas because they weren't graduating mid-year), and that she hadn't realized how much I had been able to see my sisters. Adding in that I could have added an extra two days to my trips to see them. _If only._

We ate dinner in the town and then I dropped them off at their hotel. When I got back to the dorm McHenry was still gone but I had gotten a text from her saying everything was fine just before dinner. I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I had to remember to thank McHenry for cleaning up the room and convince her to play my girlfriend for ten minutes tomorrow.

She tiptoed in half an hour later but I was already dead to the world and didn't even stir. My parents are two of the most exhausting people in the world and you need sleep before _and_ after dealing with them to survive it.

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you so much to last chapter's REVIEWers (topxsecret, kokylinda, Jazz-shoes, Lemonn-Limee, ShmemilyShmoring). You guys are awesome, thank you.**

**What do you think of Cal? Did I do his POV alright? Next chapter will be Macey's again and Cal's graduation will hold a bit of a surprise. If I made any mistakes please let me know so that I can correct them, I only proof-read this once and some of the changes didn't stick.**

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	5. Graduate

**Summary: Graduating is a big deal. It's like a right of passage, a landmark in your life. But the truth is, often times the graduation ceremony is more for the people watching (especially parents) than it is for the actual graduates. Graduations often contain many 'blasts from the pasts' when you say good-bye to friends who you haven't talked to in months, hug teachers who you hated three years earlier when you had them, and pose for pictures with relatives you rarely see. But occassionally those blasts from the pasts come unexpectantly. And when they do it's really, really good to be a trained operative who can lie easily and pretend to know more than they really do.**

**Disclaimer: As per usual I don't own anything.**

**Stanford's Fake Graduate**

**Macey McHenry/Calvin Peterson**

**Friendship/Family**

**Three-shot**

We're always searching. Whether it is for the perfect guy, happiness, comfort, a family, security, or a way to make our lives worthwhile. People search their entire life for their purpose of being here, the way they can change the world, the little part they can play. Some people get stuck in the cycle of life; turn to the darker side for excitement and danger. To feel the thrill life can provide. It may not win you a Girl Scout award but you'll be known and remembered if you play your cards right.

Some people give up on life all together, committing suicide when they get desperate and can't see a way out. Some continue to live it in their own way, drowning their sorrows in drugs, alcohol, and heavy partying. And some turn their life around from a bad place to a place that makes them feel content, that will give them happiness, security, family, friends, and everything else that they dreamed of. The people who turn their lives around often get credit for it, as people look at them in awe and congratulate them on being strong enough to turn it around. But you can never make everyone happy, and the truth is, no matter how it may look or sound, no one has a 'perfect' life, with everything they could ever want.

When I posed for magazines with my parents and had my hair and make-up done professionally I looked like the poster girl for perfect. America saw me as the 'golden girl' who was destined for success. My parents saw me as a rebellious teenager who was destined for jail or a life full of partying with their money.

When Cal talked to his parents they thought that he had finally put his life back together and followed their dream for him. His dad was still expecting to see a plastic-surgery ridden girl who had nothing going for her, but they still heard him talk and thought that he was doing exactly what they wanted. When his friends and colleagues heard him talk it sounded like he had a close-knit family with parents who loved him to death and supported him in every way possible. But when all of the assumptions and appearances break down you see people for who they really are.

I happen to be a 20-year-old working for the CIA who only goes out to party occasionally, doesn't speak to her parents, supports herself, and is having the closest thing to a perfect life that she has ever experienced. Cal is lying to his parents in an attempt to make them happy and have a few hours of peace from his dad, is doing the one job that he loves and his dad hates, and isn't dating any girl with plastic surgery because he's not the same guy his parents used to know, nor is he the perfect angel that they half expect him to be now that he's started to grow up on his own. The truth is, people are all alike. We have different hair colors, different interests, different tastes, but we all make mistakes and we all have a show that we put on depending on who we're with. It's rare that you find some one who you don't have to act for, and even rarer when you find the moments when you don't feel any pressure to act like your life is better, worse, more dramatic, pure bliss, or whatever, instead of what it really is. But occasionally it happens and when you find the people it can happen with, you know they're friends for life. It happened to me on the third day of my trip to California and I realized that Cal's really not that bad.

While he's one of the last guys in the world I would date (Hugh Hefner still beats him), I realized that he's actually a good guy and that maybe my friends were right when they said that his cockiness and playboy antics were an act because he proved to me that no matter what happens, we are friends, and he will be there for me through thick and thin.

When I got up the next morning at seven Cal was already showering for the day ahead. Graduation was at noon so we had some time. I had followed our asset all day, doing surveillance in the morning, hanging out with them all in the afternoon, doing surveillance again in the evening, and then hanging out with them again that night. It seemed like he had a pretty good group of friends, most of them appeared sheltered and a few seemed like pretty heavy party-goers but all in all, it was a nice group who didn't try to act ditzy, a huge pet-peeve of mine.

I started on our report while he was in the shower, sticking solely to the plane ride so that if anything important happened today we wouldn't need to re-write it all. Unless one of the flight attendants turned out to be a serial killer, the plane ride aspect was safe. It didn't take long for him to come out, dressed nicely in dress pants and a button down shirt without a tie since his robe would be covering most of what he was wearing anyways.

"Hey McHenry," he greeted. "I have a favor to ask of you."

"Okay, but first I found where they keep the robes for graduation. There's a little basement cupboard thing that should have extra's. The ceremony is being held outside, don't ask me why, and there aren't reserved seats, as long as people are on campus, they can come. There are lawn chairs for people to sit. The winter ceremonies are always smaller and you won't be graduating with many people, it should only take a few hours. You have to meet with the rest of the graduating class at eleven at which point I'll sit down and try to get a good seat. But I'm still not sure how exactly we're supposed to recruit the asset…"

"Err, we just ask him…don't we?" Cal said. Oh this was going to be good.

"Didn't they tell you anything about it at all?" I asked. He shrugged.

"Yeah, they said to make sure he didn't get killed. It's the CIA; they've never been big on explaining things. But I think we should just take him out after graduation and try to get him on board. There's nothing else we can really do." He had a point.

"Alright," I agreed, closing my laptop and spinning around on the desk chair. "Now what's your favor?"

"I need you to meet my parents," he said resignedly.

"_Why_?" I asked. This wasn't in the job description.

"Because I mentioned you and now they want to meet you, make sure you aren't some ditzy girl I picked up in a club," he said. 'Ditzy girl' 'picked up' 'meet my parents'. Oh no. He wouldn't. He couldn't. Not even Cal would be that stupid.

"How, exactly, did you mention me?" I asked my eyes narrowed as he shifted on the bed, looking a bit sheepish.

"Well, see…You know, I had to make them think I had a life at Stanford, and, well, a reason other than my job for growing up a little so…"

"Calvin I-don't-know-your-middle-name Peterson, how the hell do your parents think we know each other?"

"You do realize you just swore," he tried to change the subject.

"Calvin," I said in the most threatening voice I could muster while trying not to laugh at how desperate he seemed.

"Well, err, not really _you_ per-say, but you know some one like you, and since there is no one, I figured you could play the part," he said evasively.

"Play what part," I demanded, eyes narrowed.

"Uh-hum. Well, you know…" he said, procrastinating the unavoidable as far as I was concerned.

"Enlighten me," I said through gritted teeth. The gritted teeth were merely from me trying really hard not to laugh at him, but I realized quickly that they added to the effect nicely.

"I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend," he said in a rush. I looked him over as though assessing the pros and cons. He was kind of cute in a Cal-ish kind of way. Blonde hair's never been my thing, but still, he wouldn't be bad arm-candy.

"Ask me," I said. He looked at me blankly. "If you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend then you need to ask me." I clarified. He looked like he wasn't sure whether he should trust me but complied anyways.

"Macey," he said, using my first name for effect. "Will you please pretend to be my girlfriend when we see my parents." He said it nicely, and I immediately realized just how desperate he really was. And so, being I, I decided to see if I could push him a little bit farther, solely for my own amusement.

"Now beg," I commanded.

"What?" he said, immediately alert.

"I'll play your slutty girlfriend who's a brat since you asked but if you want me to play the nice girl who your parents will love then you'll have to get down on your hands and knees and beg."

"No way," he said, shaking his head adamantly. "I am not going to beg."

"Alright then," I said with a shrug, spinning my chair back around. "I think we should have nick-names for each other. You can be Teddy Bear," I decided, allowing myself to show a little amusement while he glared at me as though I was getting ready to torture him. Which, in his mind, I probably seemed like I was.

"Okay fine," he said and I spun around to face him, crossing my arms as he approached and took my hand. "Will you—"

"Wait," I cut him off. "You have to get down on your knees."

"Come on McHenry," he said desperately. "The floors dirty, these are my only dress pants."

"Well then, you should have brought another pair with you," I said stubbornly. He sighed and got down on both his knees. I smirked. Even wearing workout shorts and an oversized gray t-shirt I could get him to do what I wanted. I _was_ good.

"Are you taping this?" he asked suspiciously.

"No," I laughed. "I'm not that cruel. This is solely for my own entertainment."

"Fine," he grumbled.

"I don't like boyfriends who have a bad attitude," I reprimanded him. He sighed but put a huge, very fake smile on his face and I knew immediately that he was going to turn to the dramatics since he knew no one else would be able to see this moment. Sucks for them really.

"Macey McHenry," he pronounced loudly. I bit the side of my mouth. "Will you please, please pretend to be my nice girlfriend who my parents will love at my graduation this afternoon? I beg of you!"

"How about beseech? I think I like beseech better," I decided as though we were writing a screenplay.

"I beseech you," he corrected, grabbing both of my hands and falling with his head on my lap.

"Alright," I agreed, heaving a huge sigh as we both stood up. "Even though this is a huge hardship I'll help you out. But you had better remember this for the rest of your life because you are going to owe me for twice that long."

"You're the best McHenry. I don't know what I've done without you all the years. Until you came into my life—"

"Okay, I'm done with the dramatics," I cut him off, laughing anyways.

"Hurry up."

"Shut up."

"Then hurry up."

"You can't really criticize."

"Criticizing is easy."

"Yeah, a lot easier than what I'm doing."

"Which is precisely why I'm good at it."

"Oh yeah, I forgot, you can't do anything above the intelligence of a 3-year-old. And sorry to all the 3-year-olds I just insulted."

"Says the girl who couldn't break a simple college level encryption."

"Says the guy who can't pick a simple lock."

"You can't seem to pick a lock either."

"That's because this ones old."

"That usually makes things easier."

"Not when locks were made stronger before we were born."

"Just hurry up before some one ca—"

"The doors open Calvin," I said to his back as he continued to watch the street above us.

"Oh, nice work," he said, pushing past me as I rolled my eyes.

"Hey where's your cast?" I asked, realizing that neither of his arms were covered in green.

"Oh yeah, well I didn't want my mom fussing over me so I took it off," he said nonchalantly.

"You just decided to take your own cast off," I stated skeptically.

"Yep," he said, trying on a robe to see if it fit right.

"Don't you need a doctor to do that?"

"Err…only sometimes?" he said questioningly.

"And why was this not one of those times?"

"Because I'm training to become a doctor."

"Funny," I said making a face before accusing him of faking the whole thing.

"Well, you know, sometimes being crippled can help make trips easier."

"A) A broken arm isn't really being 'crippled' and B) it only makes a trip easier when you get to decide when you want to be, as you put it, 'crippled."

"How did it take you this long to notice, anyways?" he asked.

"Shut up," was my snappy comeback.

"'scuse me," I said to an older couple who were sitting at the far end of the left aisle. "Is this seat taken?" They both shook their head no and I sat down crossing my legs and adjusting my red dress.

There weren't many people graduating and Cal was the nineteenth person called, right after 'Ryan Owen.' Most people clapped politely as Cal accepted his 'diploma' and the group of students we had met two days before whooped and hollered from where they were standing in the back. I smiled, knowing his parents would probably think they were his friends.

When the ceremony ended the couple turned to me.

"Such a nice ceremony," the woman said.

"It was nice," I agreed honestly.

"Do you attend Stanford?" she asked me. I hesitated, not quite sure what my story was supposed to be.

"Err, I have been but I'm actually transferring to UVA next semester," I said, coming up with a story I could tell Cal's parents simultaneously. "I just came for my friends graduation," I explained. As if on cue Cal bounded up to me.

"Check this out…some one wrote—mom, dad," he said blankly to the couple I had been talking to. He looked from me to them and back again. I saw him panicking, not knowing what I had said; hoping none of it contradicted what he'd told them.

"Err, well I guess you guys have met but mom, dad, this is Macey. Macey, my parents, Lisa and David." _Oh crap._

"Calvin, you didn't tell us that she was transferring to UVA," his dad immediately jumped in.

"Err, yeah," Cal said, completely blindsided.

"They have a great reputation and lots of successful alumni," I explained. "And since I'm interested in living in DC and majoring in art, it seemed like the perfect place to get internships and jumpstart my career," I half-lied.

"We were going to wait and tell you together but I guess it came out sooner," Cal covered me, wrapping his arms around my waist. "I've got a few contacts with Johns Hopkins so I'll be starting a job there when we move," he added, throwing in his usual cover with the CIA. You'd be surprised how valuable fake doctors are in our line of work.

"That's wonderful!" His mother exclaimed. "Oh, I'm so happy for you. DC is great."

"Well, let's hope he can keep the job," Cal's dad said gruffly. I felt Cal stiffen.

"I'm sure he'll do great," I said.

"A job a place like that takes commitment," David continued. "They don't take to mistakes easily." _He's managed at a job with the exact same description for a while now._

"I'll be fine," Cal said, his tone sounding light.

"With that attitude you won't," his dad contradicted. _What is it with this guy?_

"I think they're looking for some one with Cal's attitude," I jumped in. "When you start out there's a lot of interaction with patients and their family's. They need some one who can be optimistic without giving false hope so he's really perfect for the job. It's kind of like politics; you want to everyone trust you by the way you act as well as have faith in your ability to do your job. It's a lot easy to get good grades and have no people skills, so when there's some one with both, it's like a needle in a haystack and everyone jumps at it."

"What did you say your last name was?" his dad asked. _I didn't._

"McHenry," I said, deciding it was probably best to be honest.

"Oh!" his mother gasped again. "Didn't I see your parents here?" she asked.

"Uh," I said. _I doubt—no. No, no, NO, NO! Fuck my life._

My parents were there, standing in the corner talking to Mrs. and Mr. William's (my dad's friends from college). My dad looked pretty much the same. His hair was grayer, his stomach slightly rounder, but he still looked similar. My mom looked much different having had some obvious 'work' done. Had it been ten years previous it would have been on the cover of a magazine but as they now had a less public life I wasn't expecting her fake boobs or plastic face.

"Yeah, they're actually visiting some friends," I lied as smoothly as I had been trained.

"Do you get to see them a lot?" his mom asked.

"They travel a lot," Cal answered for me.

"Oh, well that's nice," his mom said. "I would love to meet them," she hinted and I tried not to cringe.

"Sure thing," Cal smiled and tugged me along behind him as we went over to my parents.

"Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. McHenry, my parents are big fans of yours and they wanted to meet you," he said. My mom put on her best campaigning smile and my dad puffed out his chest as Cal's parents hurried to catch up.

"This is my mom, Lisa, and my dad, David," he introduced. His mom immediately went to hug mine who looked taken aback and awkward. Lisa seemed oblivious as she turned to my dad. David was more demure, shaking their hands.

Cal immediately turned the conversation to politics and after ten minutes my parents excused themselves from the conversation and went back over to the Williams. I was half-hidden behind Cal the entire time and didn't have to say a word. Luckily for me, my parent's radar of where their kid was remained broken and they didn't even glance my way.

"That was awful. What the hell are they doing here? I was never supposed to hear from them…. stupid Williams'…What's their problem…Nothing better to do…stupid idiots…. hate you…Not like it matters…asshole…jerk…have issues…" I muttered as soon as Cal and I were back in the dorm room. I threw my sweater down on the bed and opened up my suitcase, pulling out jeans and a one-shoulder black top with a red flower on the left shoulder for that night.

"McHenry, calm down. They didn't even know it was you!" Cal said, sounding a little desperate.

"Oh and what, that's supposed to make me feel better? My own parents don't recognize me. Yeah, that's great. Did you see my mom's plastic face? She looks like a really ugly Barbie. It's almost as bad as Heidi from the Hills."

"Well I wouldn't go that far," I threw my shirt down on the bed and glared at him, causing Cal to cower slightly and change his mind. "Then again, maybe it was," he corrected.

"Don't agree with me!" I exclaimed. "You can't just change your opinion because—"

"Okay, seriously," he said walking over and grabbing both my shoulders. "You have got to calm down. I know you weren't expecting to see them but it could have been worse. And it's over, okay? Just breathe Mace." His random use of my first name was really throwing me off guard but I nodded anyways and took a deep breath.

"Sorry. I just wasn't expecting…that."

"I know. But forget about them, we have desert plans with a future friend to the government."

"Do me a favor?" I asked him a little hesitantly once we were both dressed. "Don't mention my parents to anyone. I don't like talking about it." Cal nodded and I sighed in relief.

"—Because no one's going to do it for you!" I laughed along with everyone else in the room at yet another lame joke by one of David's Friends.

"Hey David, can we talk to you for a second," I asked him, indicating Cal and myself, while every one else was involved in their own conversations.

"Sure," he agreed, looking a little surprised. "What's up?" he asked after we lead him a little ways away from the group.

"I'm not a Stanford student," Cal said, making David's grin fade a little.

"Err, okay," he said.

"And I'm not his cousin," I added.

"We're CIA agents. And we're here to offer you a proposition," Cal finished for me.

"Wait. You work for the CIA?" David asked. _Didn't he just say that?_ I wondered.

"Yeah. And we have proposition for you. We have an extra plane ticket here with your name on it. Well, kind of. If you're willing, you can come back to Langley with us in the morning and meet with our bosses."

"I'm not one for jumping out of planes…" David said nervously running his hand through his hair.

"You don't have to jump out of a plane," Cal said, rolling his eyes impatiently.

"The CIA is interested in recruiting you as more of an asset," I said. "Everything will be explained tomorrow if you agree to come with us."

"What am I supposed to tell my friends?" he asked. I shrugged.

"That you have a sudden desire to see the Nations Capital. I don't care; make something up. Just meet us tomorrow morning at 7 with a change of clothes. You should be back in a few days."

And with that, our mission was complete. We stopped by Cal's parents' hotel on our way out to say good-bye. His mom hugged me tighter than Liz (which is _really_ hard to do). As soon as we got to Langley David was taken away and I never heard another word about him. What can I say? Langley works in mysterious ways.

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><p><strong>AN: This took me soo much longer to get out than I wanted and I'm still not happy with it. Ah, well, I ran out of inspiration part way through but tell me what you think. I might go back and change it later.**

**Thank you so much to all the REVIEWers (Jazz-shoes, Kokylinda, Anonymous96, topXsecret, rainbow0love, cornycaylie, Lemonn-Limiee) I am so sorry it took for ever. I know every one wants more Zach/Cammie and I have a mild one in mind that I may write next but it won't be out for about two weeks, probably, because I've got a soccer tournament, then my sister leaves for college, then my school starts so...unfortunately, I won't be able to have regular updates and the rest will probably be sparatic. However, I'm going to have at least 20 chapters before I stop with this.**

**Now that I'm done rambling, please review. Suggestions for upcoming chapters or how to make this one better are greatly appreciated.**

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	6. Picture Perfect

**Summary: Sometimes, days are just crappy. Sometimes there's nothing you can do about it. Sometimes nothing goes right. But friends _always_ make _everything_ better.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Gallagher Girls or the characters.**

**Picture Perfect**

**Cameron Morgan/Zachary Goode**

**Friendship/Romance**

**One-shot**

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><p>You know those times when it seems like the day will never end? It's just so horrible that it doesn't even seem real. It starts when the alarm clock rings, or, more often, when it doesn't or the snooze button is hit too many times. Then the shower has to be quicker, and rushing around the apartment is tiring and often uncomfortable when the feeling of almost, but not quite, sweating starts. Getting out the door is then a struggle and all that can possibly make the morning better is coffee. But, of course, the coffee from Starbucks isn't warm enough and it gets thrown away before half of it is gone along with half the cash in your wallet that was used to tip the horrible drink maker. Being thankful for the coffee you gave him 20 dollars and told him to keep the change; the only comforting thought is that maybe he now feels guilty for the awful coffee. The rest of the day isn't any better. The Late Curse has already set in and being on time for anything is no longer an option.<p>

Meetings, deadlines for paperwork, cracking a simple encryption, even getting your boss on the phone with the FBI. Nothing can be on time. When the workday finally ends the curling up on the couch and watching a movie seems like the perfect cure but no friends ever let that happen and instead plan a party after work in the back of everyone's pick-up trucks. And as awful as the day started, nothing beats the simple memories that always come when hanging out with friends in the back of a pick-up truck listening to blasting country music.

October is a great month in Washington DC. The tourists that were there for the summer have all left, the trees that line the streets are beautiful, the temperature is the perfect for work clothes and lounging clothes, and, best of all, it is right before elections so all the politicians are campaigning in areas that aren't DC. Cammie woke up Friday morning at 7 O'clock. Well, actually, she woke up at 6:30 when her alarm started beeping but she decided she could spare an extra five minutes and hit the snooze button. Unfortunately, she forgot that she had switched her snooze settings to ten minutes instead of five which gave her enough time to fall fast asleep again. And when the clock beeped again she did the same thing, too tired to look at the clock and not conscious enough to realize she had already hit the snooze button. It happened again at 6:50 and once more at 7:00. She would probably have gone through the same routine for a fourth time if it weren't for the sun that was now peaking through her blinds. Still, she wasn't a morning person and decided to ignore the nagging voice in her head that said it was too bright for 6:30. Less than a minute after she decided to ignore the sun her phone rang and she stuck her arm out from under her blue and white fluffy duvet cover to answer it.

"'ello," she said groggily.

"Cam!" Liz exclaimed, way to loudly in Cameron's opinion. "Thank Goodness, I am having a major crisis here."

"How can you have a crisis before I wake up?"

"Before you…YOU'RE NOT UP? You have to be here in an hour! How can you not be up?"

"What are you talking about Liz? I don't have to be at work until 8:15 and it's only…SHIT!" She yelled, snapping her phone shut on Liz as she re-read her pink alarm clock with 7:03 printed clearly in block numbers. "Why, oh why do you hate me?" she asked the alarm clock as she threw back her covers, slipped her recently manicured purple toes into her fluffy green slippers, and threw on her pink bathrobe that clashed completely with her white pajama pants that were covered in large polka dots with every color except the light pink of her bathrobe. Her brown hair was a tangled mess from falling into bed without brushing her hair the night before. She padded across her flat quickly and stepped down into her kitchen/living room area where she cut a bagel and put it in the toaster before running around and quickly packing a bag filled with workout clothes, money, regular clothes, her cell phone and the pile of folders she had taken home without permission the night before. Hey, they didn't contain any classified information. Well, technically they did but it was the same information that had been leaked over the internet two days before, she was just trying to figure out what footprints the leaker left.

When she went back into the kitchen it was 7:18 and quickly popped her bagel up only to find that it had burned charcoal.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed sucking on the finger the bagel had just burned. Glancing frantically at the clock she reached in the drawer for a knife and pulled the burnt bagel out of the toaster, tossing it quickly into the trashcan beside two feet away. Of course she missed and burnt bagel crumbs covered the floor. Not having time to make another bagel she ignored the mess and went into the bathroom to take a shower and de-tangle her rats nest hair. It was 7:42 when she got out. She towel dried her hair as best she could before turning on the blow dryer on full blast. Five minutes later her hair was still damp but she decided to break one of her rules and get into her work clothes before finishing the job in a desperate attempt to let it dry on it's own a little more. It was a pointless attempt and she spent another five minutes to get just the top part dry. She pulled on her black two-inch heels and tossed her flip-flops into her extra bag as well. The bottom half of her hair was still at the uncomfortable faze between wet and dry and she moved it over her shoulder before swinging it right back, realizing that it would leave a water stain on her light pink silk blouse. She threw her bag over her shoulder and ran towards the front door, stopping when she saw the crumbled mess that was supposed to have been her breakfast. The clock read 7:59 so she grabbed her dustpan and hand-broom and swept it up quickly before running out of her room. She was back ten seconds later after realizing that she had left her wallet (which had her Langley ID in it) in her metal, flame and water resistant safe.

Her stomach grumbled in protest as she stood up again, wallet in one hand, bag in the other, and closed the safe, placing her blue pillow back over it. She ignored her stomach and ran into the street, hailing a cab on her third attempt. She gave them the usual address, three blocks away from Langley, and ran into the Starbucks three feet away when he dropped her off. She was cutting it close but still had three minutes before she had to be at headquarters. The line wasn't long and she got her drink with one minute to spare. She knew she would be late but as long as she was there before 8:20 no one would give her much grief. Except maybe Cal who enjoyed giving _everyone_ grief. She threw a twenty dollar bill on the counter and told the guy who had made her drink to keep the change as she dashed out the door. She walked quickly (or as quickly as you can in heels) down the street and gagged on her first sip of coffee. It tasted worse than ice coffee, and she _hated_ ice coffee. She swallowed it with a grimace and forced herself to take two more sips, hoping it would grow on her. Of course it didn't and she threw it away in the first trashcan she passed, mentally cursing the guy she had tipped so generously.

She rushed into the Korean briefing at 7:22 and Cal clucked disapprovingly at her as she glared at him. If it had been anyone but Cal, who never, _ever_ got nervous or scared or took a hint for when to not say anything, they would have backed off. But it was Cal so of course he didn't care.

"Close the door and take your seats," the mission director said as she stepped inside the meeting room 2.01 seconds after Cammie.

As soon as the meeting was dismissed Cam rushed back to her desk to finish analyzing the paperwork she had brought back from work the night before. She had been planning on doing it during breakfast but that hadn't worked out.

"Oh, Cam good. Where's your analysis on the leaks?" Bex asked five minutes after Cam had started working on it. "Peter needs it two minutes ago."

"I'm almost done," Cammie said, typing furiously as she fixed a few of her grammatical errors. "Stall him for a minute?" she begged, looking up quickly to give her friend the best pleading look she could manage.

Bex had done her best but Cammie still showed up a few seconds late and received a semi-good natured glare from Peter as he took the documents from her. It was 2 O'clock by the time she finished with the second set of documents Peter had for her and Cammie was famished. She didn't get a chance to have lunch thanks to a request for her sent by Liz whose 'crisis' turned out to be an encryption that Cam had broken before. It wasn't hard to break but it required two people. Why she couldn't use some one from the basement Cam didn't know but she didn't feel right leaving her out to dry so she took Reese's Peanut Butter Cup from her desk and went to help Liz. Two things went wrong in the basement. The first was her hunger. The candy bar should have helped her hunger but instead it made all of the hunger that had slowly been diminishing throughout the day comeback twice as bad as before. The second was that Cam had hit send a split second later than Liz and almost blew the system. Luckily, Liz was able to salvage it and they managed to break into the system…two and a half hours later. By then, Cam was ready to go home and eat. Her boss, however, had different ideas.

"Morgan!" he barked at her. "Get me the FBI…NOW!" Cam didn't even bother groaning as she threw her work jacket back over her desk chair and sat down. Her boss's secretary had been given the week off to see her sister in Wyoming who had just had a baby boy. Cam liked the secretary well enough and the whole office had been happy for her when the agency approved her vacation but now they all wanted her back three days ago. Without her, Boss Man had gone crazier than usual and the whole office was suffering with her departure, even if it was only for six days.

Getting the FBI on the phone probably doesn't sound like a big deal; after all spies and FBI agents probably work together a lot, right? Wrong. FBI agents, like most politicians, don't like spies much. FBI and Langley have a mutual distaste for the other. The FBI thinks spies are law-breaking criminals who are willing to go to any lengths to get answers and Langley thinks the FBI is a law-abiding goody-two shoes agency who never gets anything done because they're worried about rubbing people the wrong way and making a few enemies. Of course these are generalizations but the one time an active spy and an active FBI agent married it ended six months later (three of which were their honeymoon) with a broken frying pan and a whole in the wall. They never spoke to each other again and were a lesson for all future generations. Or so the rumors say.

And so getting the FBI head on the phone to speak to her boss caused Cammie great difficulty. Usually she was pretty good with people but her boss's secretary was 100 times better and Cammie just couldn't live up to her. Her boss stuck his head out the door twice to see if she had them yet and both times she shook her head, causing him to glare at her disapprovingly. She finally got the head on the phone at 5:03 and called out to her boss who said he didn't want to talk to him anymore. Cam grimaced, but didn't question, her boss's response. She uncovered the mouth piece and delivered his message.

"Hello? Hello?" She was met only by the dial tone. With a sigh she hung up and closed her eyes for a minute, listening only to the footsteps making their way towards her.

"Not now Zach," she said, holding her hand up to stop him from saying anything. He didn't question how she knew it was him without turning around.

"Rough day?" he asked instead, resting his chin on his arms that were crossed over the top of her cubicle.

"You have no idea," she muttered putting the phone away and shutting down her computer. "All I want to do is get home and curl up in a blanket with popcorn, pizza, and Dirty Dancing. Wait, that came out wrong," she said, frowning as Zach smirked at her.

"Well, as much as I'd _love_ to see that, and really, you should totally—OW! Never mind. We're going out of the city, you should come."

"I don't—" Cammie started but was cut off half way through declining.

"Cam, are you coming?" Macey asked walking up beside Zach.

"Actually, I'm—"

"Great, we're leaving at five thirty. Get changed, Peter's buying the beer."

"But I—"

"Don't be a party-pooper. Besides, Liz's not boyfriend is going to be there. Watching them will totally cheer you up. Word travels fast," she said defensively. "Late alarm clock from Liz, bad coffee and late to the meeting from Cal, messed up paperwork from Bex, encryption screw-up from Liz, and FBI call from Zach. I know your day down to the second. Now get ready. Not coming isn't an option."

"Hey look, the Big Dipper," Cam said as she sat in the back of Peter's truck. They were about twenty minutes out of the city, in a clearing in the woods off some back roads that Peter had taken when he was trying to avoid getting a ticket three years over.

"That's the Little Dipper. See, the star at the edge of the handle is to light to be the Big Dipper," Macey contradicted as she took another swig of beer.

"It has nothing to do with how bright the star is," Zach said. "It's about which way the handle is facing. The little dipper's handle is always to the East."

"No it's not it's to the South," Bex told him.

"No that's the Big Dipper," Zach told her.

"No, the Big Dipper uses the North Star, its handle is to the North," Cam argued.

"You guys are all stupid," Cal said. "That's not any of the three dippers. It's clearly Cassiopeia." No one in the truck said anything as they stared at him blankly. "What?" he asked. Macey shook her head at him, Bex burst out laughing, and Cam looked up at Zach as they shared an amused look.

"He's _your_ best friend," she told him. Zach held his hands up in surrender but didn't say anything.

"Hey, look!" Bex exclaimed, pointing at Liz.

"Aw," Cam cooed.

"That's so cute," Macey agreed. Zach shrugged, seemingly unaffected.

"How is lying down in grass cute?" Cal asked, catching sight of Liz and her non-boyfriend lying down in the soft grass staring up at the stars, holding hands. "He could at least make a move. We're in the woods, under the stars, and Liz is an insane romanticist. If he played his cards right he wouldn't have to spend the night alone."

"As much as it pains me to admit this, he does have a point," Macey said thoughtfully. "I wonder if he's gay…"

"Okay, just because a guy doesn't try to get into the pants of a girl he hasn't even gotten up the nerve to ask out yet, doesn't mean he's gay," Cammie defended them.

"Uh, yeah it does," Cal said.

"Yeah, there's a good chance he is," Zach agreed, ignoring Cam's glare.

"I did see him eyeing McDonald the other day…" Bex said, trailing off thoughtfully.

"I can't believe you!" Cam exclaimed. "Well, actually I can believe you two," she amended indicating Zach and Cal. "But not you two! What happened to the 'they're so cute' of two minutes ago?" Bex and Macey were quiet for a minute.

"Cal ruined it," Macey decided. Cal looked at her indignantly.

"I did not!" he defended. "You were the one who said he might be gay."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't have if you hadn't pointed out that he wasn't making a move."

"Maybe not but I just said it wasn't cute because of it. You took it to a whole…"

Cam shook her head and let her friends' conversation fade into the background as she gazed out into the clearing that was filled with various amounts of light from all the flashlights they had brought with them. The clearing was big and perfectly circular like a crop circle. There were five car loads of people as well; Peters pickup truck, two five seaters, one eight seater, and one red old fashioned two seater. All the cars were on, some all the way, some only with the battery, and each of the radios was blasting WMZQ which had just returned from commercial.

"An old one from Martina McBride, 'Anyway'," the DJ said before putting the song on. The clearing was full of around 30 people. Most were coupled up or in smaller groups, chilling in the grass or on the hood of the cars, stargazing and talking quietly. A few were play wrestling and dancing in the middle of the circle, enjoying the fresh air and relative darkness that you rarely found in the city unless there was a huge power-outage and all the generators failed.

"What are you thinking about," Zach said quietly kissing the top of her head lightly as their friends continued to bicker. Bex had joined in after Cal randomly accused her of ruining the moment.

"Patrick Swayze," she said absentmindedly, still staring out into the clearing. "And how if you hadn't dragged me out here I would be watching his dance scenes over and over again until my DVD player got to hot and started skipping."

"Ah, but this is so much better," Zach said, grinning down at her. "If you hadn't come you would have missed Cal's brilliant constellation lesson, Liz's possible gay non-boyfriend, and, let's face it, me looking way hotter than Patrick Swayze ever could."

"I think 70% of the girls on Earth would disagree with your last statement and 25% are insane so you can't really trust their opinion anyways," Cam said but she was smiling to.

"Well, you're never part of the majority so I don't really care," Zach told her as he kissed her gently on her lips. Cam turned over with the blanket still wrapped around her body and kissed him harder.

"Oi! We already know you're not gay, Zach. You don't need to prove it to us by getting down and dirty in Peter's truck. I don't think he'd appreciate it," Macey said, tossing her beer bottle cap at them gently so that it hit Zach's shoulder.

"I know he wouldn't," Peter piped up as he came back over to his truck and pulled himself onto the back.

"I BLAME ZACH!" Cal yelled at the top of his lungs. Everyone stopped what they were doing to see who had yelled but as soon as they saw Cal, now standing up and pointing accusingly at Zach, they rolled their eyes and went back to what they were doing.

"Sit down," Macey commanded, glaring at him menacingly. Cal obediently sat and Macey smacked him as hard as she could across the back of his head.

"What was—"

"You know what—"

"Okay, seriously, I can't decide if those two are friends or plotting to kill each other," Peter said, watching Macey and Cal. "I think I'll go with the latter," Peter said as Cal through an unopened beer at Macey's head.

"You idiotic—!" Macey yelled after catching it a split second before it hit her.

"Honestly Peter, don't you read Vogue?" Bex joked. "Throwing beer bottles at peoples head is the new universal sign for love."

"Oh yeah, how could I forget. It was on right next to the 'Could You Marry Channing Tatum' quiz."

"What was the verdict?" Bex asked.

"Oh we were '100% Compatible'," Peter joked, causing both of them to laugh. By the end of the night Liz, her non-boyfriend, and Jay had all joined the six in the truck. Macey and Cal eventually stopped bickering, Liz and Bex started an intense game of rock paper scissors shoot, and Jay and Liz's non-boyfriend debated whether or not the Redskins had a shot at the Super bowl, Cammie and Zach were sitting beside each other talking quietly, Zach's arms wrapped around her stomach. It was a picture perfect moment that would later be framed in every one's houses with one person either scratched out or decorated with a black sharpie.

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><p><strong>AN: Heehee it's been over a month. Woops :P Luckily, I don't feel bad because none of these ever leave people hanging. I've had this done for a little while, or at least, I had it written but I had to fix some inconsistancies and I haven't had a lot of time. Still, I hope you liked it.**

**Thank you sooo much to last chapters reviewers (Jazz-shoes, Lemonn-Limee, bookbabe68, and topXsecret) they mean the world to me. Please Review! I'm in the middle of the next two and one of them has a lot of Zach/Cammie while the other is Bex/Cammie so we'll see which one I finish first :)**

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	7. Zach

**Summary: Having a boyfriend is complicated. Having a boyfriend and being a spy is even harder. Having a boyfriend who's life has been completely different than yours has its benefits and disadvantages but as long as you understand and love each other it all works out.**

**Disclaimer: The drabble is from my own imagination but the character's are not.**

**Zach**

**Cammie/Zach**

**Romance/Friendship/A li'l bit o' angst**

I watched as Zach and Cal did their little man hug and saw the care free smile that I loved so much flash onto Zach's face. It was moments like this when I could almost imagine him as a 5-year-old, digging holes in the dirt around the playground, making friends in less than two minutes, trading baseball cards…

And yet there were other times when I saw the mistrust he had towards the Langley administration. The way his smile was forced when he talked to the director and the way he hesitated for the slightest moment when the head of our department assigned him to a mission that required backup. I saw the surprise on his face every time the agency came through for him. The amazement when his friends refused to leave him behind and the uncomfortable look on his face whenever family was mentioned.

It was times like that when I remembered that he was scarred.

He didn't have a carefree childhood, he had always had to be on-edge and he had been trained, as I had, from the day he was born. The difference was that I was trained by people who loved and cared about me. I was trained for my own good, for defense. He was trained to be an asset, to attack, to kill.

Things like that didn't just go away without leaving a mark. I noted the way he did a sweep of the room less than a second after the benevolent smile appeared on his lips. He turned back to Calvin but the moment of innocence was gone and I couldn't get it back no matter how much I wanted to.

I had learned to cherish the split seconds when I saw him at ease.

He was confident in his ability as a spy. He knew he was good, he knew that he was valuable to the agency and that they wouldn't let him get killed without a fight because his skills and dangerous connections were valuable but he wasn't confident in the way I thought he was when I first met him. His confidence rested in the world of espionage but it didn't go beyond that. It was his job to save himself, it had been since he was young. If the best option Langley had, technicality wise, was to leave Zach out to dry I knew he thought that they would do it.

I knew that he thought we would do that.

What Zach didn't see was who he was to his friends, to me. He didn't see that people really cared about him.

He was better at handling the life of espionage than I was, there's no point denying it. He can distance himself in a way that I can't. He doesn't get emotionally attached to anyone or anything during a mission. I still remember when I first met him. He seemed so cocky and confident. He loved to beat me and prove how macho he was. But now I know that's not all he is. Even though he could turn it off on command, Zach still had a heart. If he didn't, he wouldn't care what people thought. If he didn't, he would have turned out just like his mom.

He had the skills to be an assassin. He could shoot better than anyone I had ever seen. His reflexes were amazing. He knew everything you could know about rifles, he could shoot the wheels of a car moving sixty miles per hour like it was a stationary target that he had been setting up to hit for three hours.

He could have turned out differently. There was a part of him, a dangerous part. It wasn't always apparent but it was always there. He was disciplined, every move was calculated, but I still recognized the parts of him that could easily have led him to the bloodier side of our business. Like when a bomb went off and his face remained unchanged. He wasn't shook up the next day; it was as though he had been expecting it.

I knew he wasn't a murderer but I knew that he could have been an assassin. I thanked my lucky stars that he had somehow avoided that path but I knew that he had it in him. There was a part of him, no matter how small…He could have turned out differently and sometimes I wondered why he didn't.

When it was just the two of us I was reminded. The way he ever so carefully moved my hair out of my face. The way his fingers gently grazed over my bare waist. The way his lips softly brushed across my cheek and his arms cradled me.

Zach came with baggage. He had more scars than I probably knew. But he had a heart and even though he hid it and tried to ignore the fact that he had feelings, everyone around him saw it plain as day. That was why we loved him, why we would rather die with him than leave him alone in the desert to be killed by a foreign agency. I didn't care how good a spy Zach was. I didn't care whether he could lift a cow or a feather.

I knew he was more than that, I knew that he had more to give than his work with Langley.

I just wished he could see it too.

He didn't have to try and impress me with his strength, he already had by not following the path that most people thought he couldn't deviate from without dying.

He didn't have to risk his life to show me he cared.

I already knew.

One day, I swore to myself, Zach would have a family.

One day, I would make him feel at ease enough to let his guard down for more than an eighth of a second.

One day, Zach would know that I loved him.

And one day, he would realize the real reasons why.

**A/N: I know it's been forever but here's another Zach/Cammie one-shot. I have two more one-shots in the works, one Zach/Cammie one not, and I'll post those probably during winter break since I'll finally have a break. I'm taking AP's this year and they take up an insane amount of time so sorry about that.**

**I've only read this over a few times so if there are any mistakes feel free to point them out. I'll edit it and re-post it a little later.**

**Thanks to last updates REVIEWers! Jazz-shoes, lovelymemories, topXsecret, bookbabe68, and Lemonn-Limee! You guys are amazing and you cheer me up whenever my day sucks so please stick with me through the long drags between updates and REVIEW if you have ten seconds to spare.**

**Question: My Zach/Cammie one-shot that I'm in the middle of gets a little more racy than what I normally right. Care/Don't care? Tell me and I'll post it seperately if anyone cares.**

**Also, for any of my fellow Harry Potter lovers, I have a next generation James SP/OC out there so read it if you're bored or are looking for a new story or just feel like reading it :)**

**countrymusicfanatic**


	8. Come Home

**Summary: The life of a spy is unpredictable. There is always something to worry about, there is always a problem that needs to be fixed, and there is always a way to fix it. But having some one there to worry about you and want you to come home is a gift that no spy would ever give up.**

**Come Home**

**Cameron Morgan/Zachary Goode**

**Romance with an angst edge**

**One-shot**

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><p>"What's going on?" Cameron asked, noticing the quiet conversation between Leon, Liz, and Vance. They shared a look before Liz answered.<p>

"Zach missed his first call-in," she admitted with a sigh.

"The plane could have been delayed," Leon said reasonably. "I was on my way to Dubai for a mission when we got caught in a storm. I didn't have enough signal to make my call-in."

"It's not time to panic," Liz told her reassuringly. Cami nodded but looked away.

Later that night Bex came over. They ate a carton of chocolate ice-cream while watching re-runs of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Liz and Macey joined them a few hours in, bringing with them a tub of popcorn. They were all laughing at the character's banter when Cami's eyes flashed to the dark window and she whispered the words she wished Zach could hear right at that moment.

"Please come home."

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><p><strong>AN: Yet another forever update. Sigh. I wrote this in the last ten minutes of Studyhall today and when I got home I edited it to make it exactly 150 words. When I started it I wanted to make it 100 but that wasn't enough words and doing 200 made it too wordy so insteaed I made it 150. I'm insanely proud of myself at the moment. It was inspired by Faith Hill's song "Come Home".**

**Anyways, sorry it took so long, but alas, that's my life right now. SO, REVIEW and tell me what you thought of my attempt to write a short one-shot. I still have a very Zach/Cammie one-shot that's partially written and completely in my head but I need a good hour to write it and at the moment I don't have an hour. I'll get it out as soon as I can. You guys have ben amazing with your REVIEW's and I love reading them, they cheer me up so much.**

**If you have a prompt feel free to give it to me because I kind of want to try some of those :D**

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